Tiny Doodles
by Daifuku Mochiin
Summary: Taking chances on small potentialities. (SasuHina vignettes, short stories, micro-fiction, etc.)
1. Last Sunset

The last sunset before graduation. She wanted to see no matter what.

Golden zigzagged the stairway to the rooftop, door ajar. A slight push to open sent a rickety stretch and crimson blazed across, spanning jagged silhouettes.

A person stood there, clutched at the coop fence.

She called, but he didn't hear with headphones on. She held on the fence and the wires bobbed, pulsed on their hands, and broke his trance.

"Hyuuga." Sasuke removed his right earpiece. His tie was loose, the top button undone. His bag was on the floor. Perhaps he planned to stay long and rested the burden off his shoulders. "Last sunset?"

She hummed in agreement. "Though, not really… In the real sense, it's not the last."

"But in a different sense, every sunset is also the last…"

Sasuke rarely speaks his mind, characterized by the black wristwatch on his right arm: precise, on schedule, no idle talks. But when he does, she can't help smile, refreshed, her muddled thoughts articulated in another voice, another creature.

"Like rivers, you never come across the same sunset twice?" she said, half-joking.

Not a hint of laugh came.

"Where are you in college?" he said.

"Konoha Uni…"

A side-glance and the corner of his lips curled, showing teeth, restrained. His dark eyes cut to her, darted away, then coming back, erratic in their downturn. Amused.

"—is something funny?"

He scratched his brow and slung his bag over his shoulder. His peculiar smile returned to composure.

"Nothing."

Sasuke made for the door. Blue dusk poured on the white canvas of his dress shirt.

"See you on campus," he said as he faded from view.

He waited at the gate, treated her to burgers and walked her home.


	2. Sharingan Trap

A man stood on the cliff. His chest reflected white light. His eyes were dark and unmoving, his hair blown by the strong wind.

Around her, the landforms were shadows cast against the startling orange sky. Clashes. Bleeding fiery red.

The mirror sea kissed her feet.

Iridescent shells soar and fell on the sand at the heaving of ominous tides.

"Who are you?"

At her question, he jumped off, his shirt bloated around him as though a pair of wings. Water splashed as he descended and his arms fell slowly on his sides.

She took a step back but he drew close, fast, and soon he stood in front of her, reaching for her hand. His touch was soft and warm. Warmer than the tumult of waves wading into the mirror calm below.

He brought her hand to his cheek, gently gliding it there.

He was the darkness that came from all sides. Sad yet unforgiving.

"I'm awfully tired introducing myself… I've always known who you are… Hinata."

Red slashed. A transient burst. Peeled. Swirling pattern through the darkness.

Faint, her knees buckled. And there, he held her. Suspended in a harness, thrust into an abyss sky. In it there was no sun and stars. The red sharp sheets of grief folded into a flower was the dawn.

It rained. Cascades on his cheeks. Salty upon her lips, like the sea below her.

"Sasuke… Kun."


	3. Morning Jog

Recently, she goes beyond till 5:45 for a jog. Because by the time she arrives at the park, he'd be by the seventh hokage's monument doing warm up and stretches.

That morning like any other, Hinata stopped by the benches to do hamstring stretches first, and by the time she had reached her arms up fully, she realized he'd been doing the same. As she observed him, she ended up imitating his routine.

She wasn't certain if he's from the same school - there are four surrounding Naruto Park - or if he hailed from Leaf City at all. She's never seen him in the area until the previous month, and instead of the welcoming, vibrant flair characterstic of its people, he had a snobbish air to him, staring off into the distance, headphones on, some latent anger burning in his eyes for some reason.

His route involves coming round in front the Leaf Hospital, taking a turn right Hiruzen Lane to the Hokage's Office straight to the Nakano bridge where the sunrise is always beautiful over Nakano River.

On Upper Leaf, he passes by Sakura Avenue lined with high-rise condos and heads back Lower Leaf through Naruto Bridge back to the park to cool down in the same spot by the monument already bathed in sweat, heat coming off his shoulders. She could be imagining this steam, however, since it's hard to tell through his black jacket. It's not the same thing every time, of course, but Hinata had construed he's the type to not bother what to wear. Like Steve Jobs in mock turtleneck or Mark Zuckerberg in a grey hoodie.

Afterwards, he goes to the Yamanaka convenience store in front for a bottle of orange juice and donuts with coffee if homeless man Lee happens to be around. He'll spend about ten to fifteen minutes talking about grave matters with Lee, headphones down on his neck - probably about the meaning of existence or social inequality - and then he heads towards District 11. Hinata has friends staying at dorms in District 11, so it's not far off he goes to Eight Trigrams Sixty Four Palms University as she does. Or he could be a student at the Uchiha School of Music which happened to be in that direction.

The stranger twisted his torso and out from the corner of his eye, their gazes almost meet had she not snapped out of her mind, turning around quickly to hide under her hoodie.

Autumn cold bit Hinata's face, but heat from embarrassment shot up to her cheeks. Footsteps closed in an she didn't dare look behind her, pretending to concentrate stretching her knees as if she needed so much of it.

 _No no no no no… I-I'm not a creep! I-I was just observing—t-the people in the community. L-like a normal person!_

She'd answer smoothly like so if ever he'd asked. Which he probably would… Or not. She's totally ignorable, yes, she is, she might as well have been a concrete bench.

The footsteps drew away and her heart rate steadied considerably. Taking a cautious peek behind, no one was there. Hinata breathed in and out and started slow. Just then, she felt draft pass by.

"Good morning," the wind said, sharp, deep, and dry, swooping fast, leaving behind chilly air to graze her face.

"G—" Hinata almost choked on her tongue. She realized the wind was tall and wore dark outfit, running towards the park exit.


	4. Good Woman

_The last time he'd been to Konoha, Sakura insisted she goes with him, and though she asked as unobtrusively as she could, cheeks mild and flushed, her shoulders folded in that slow, creeping manner when she talks to him; he declined. It never felt right. No matter how well-intended Sakura's intentions were—whatever it is that's supposed to happen between them._

 _But Hinata Hyuuga wasn't supposed to be here._

 _"You're a good woman," he said. In bed, Hinata looked his way, weary, sweat running her temples._

 _Touching her made him feel greedy._

* * *

In this dimension, a civilization was wiped out replaced by a new government. At the heart of the planet stood a towering god tree fed with the blood of the previous civilization. Where old matter used to subsist, taken away, left a vacuum hole, a great space to fill. And filled it became, overpopulated to the brim with heat, noise, and stress.

Sasuke had been underway investigating Kaguya, fleeing from the police with laser weapons in hot pursuit on his trail. As he activated a portal, Hinata Hyuuga on a delivery mission in their world came tumbling down and slipped inside, stuck with him in an overcrowded planet until he'd figure how to retrieve chakra from the lizard-looking men who took their powers with a sucking orb and rendered his Rinnegan inoperative.

Getting Hinata Hyuuga out alive became main priority. Though it never came easy. The two struck out on a string of misadventures, got into mishaps, but he turned to know her well, what kind of person she is...

* * *

 _He missed the opportunity years before in the academy._

 _Rrevenge, Naruto, Sakura, and Kakashi—those stood by the threshold and beyond the line where they stood lay everyone else, Hinata Hyuuga included._

 _But he saw now how he missed, conscious of the hollow she created._

* * *

One time, they had to steal food, stocks of bread equivalent, and Hinata grew worried for the shop's charge, a rangy servant girl with a nervous gaze and fidgety antennae closely resembling a cricket.

She turned back. He grabbed her elbow.

"Stop," he said.

"Let me go," she said, her fragile face firm. "This won't do. I can't."

"There's no point. Let's find a place to hide."

"No."

He pulled her away, but she resisted. With his characteristic frigid glare, he said, "Naruto's waiting."

She took his grip off her elbow. "You don't know what could happen to her."

"That's none of your business."

She stared at him. "Is that how you've always been? That's pitiful, Sasuke Kun."

She returned to the shop where the charge was beaten by her master and saved the girl.

* * *

Hinata never paid his practical solutions any heed. She decided their distance and Sasuke could only stay in the shadows, guarding her.

If it were Sakura, she'd uphold his word better than her opinions so long as they could be together.

* * *

 _He liked to think keeping his distance is also for Sakura's sake._ _Unlike him, she's leaving a lot behind her._

 _He only sees the flimsiness of her perspective._

* * *

Hinata worked hard to earn the girl's trust. Using hand gestures, she offered help collecting debris for measly coins. She formed an odd friendship with the cricket-faced girl who welcomed them to her home in the slums: a cell. Residential conditions for the lowly were prisons and maze-like at best, but it gave Sasuke the benefit of planning their next move in a hidden base.

Hinata cooked dainty meals with strange, scrappy ingredients, brewed medicine for the ailing bug-child next door; never a wasted chance making herself useful for others. Over as simple as her familiarity cleaning the chimney adjoined the rickety bed, the small table and one threadbare couch, she vaguely fascinated him. He hadn't intended to help, but drawn to her, rolled up his sleeves, took a bin for the soot, and made for the fireplace.

She gave way and they worked together without word.

"Sasuke Kun..."

He looked at her figure in the dim, her face white.

"I'll be on this side of the couch so you…" she said, patting the space beside her and placing a banket there.

Sasuke always kept watch by the window sill, sitting on the ledge. He denied her offer, because he knew he'd mention Naruto anyway.

* * *

 _Hinata thinks there's no one beyond Naruto. But what she upholds, the wonders she saw in Naruto, doesn't her drag her down._

* * *

"Nobody needs you knocking on their doors," he said.

She paused midway pouring hot water into a mug. "But I do... Their baby's terribly sick."

"You don't know what's sick. Not in this place." He met her eyes and she didn't seem as confident as she wanted to appear.

"That may be so... That maybe so," she said, softer the second time. She sighed. "But I can't just do nothing. I'm making sure I'm not making it worse."

"You're making us worse," he said, looking at the steam rising to her small chin.

"I... I'm being careful. They're good people."

"I never knew you were clairvoyant."

Her brows drew slightly, the blush in her cheeks seeming moist and brighter. "You don't have to be clairvoyant to know. Sometimes we need to trust people."

He snorted humorlessly as she drank. "You can't be serious."

"But I am..." she said, staring straight at him. "I am."

Suddenly, he was at loss for words and lowered his head slightly.

Hinata took another sip. "It's not just about Naruto. I never really knew you... Basing who you are because of what I've heard or what you did in the past, I think it doesn't matter anymore."

* * *

Her being kind isn't weakness, but setting things right with herself, square and face-to-face where others would've turned to cowardice. She's gravity, enviably born with steadfast sense knowing what is of virtue; the spirit of true kunochi in all she does. Like the cut down way she'd peel fruit to share or noiselessly leaving warm soup on the table after he got rained on, cold and dismissive.

"Want seconds?" She asked before he realized he reached the base of the bowl. He pushed the bowl a little and she brought it out over the pot for another serving.

"You took longer than usual," she said. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"Who are you asking?"

She turned. "I asked properly. It wouldn't hurt to answer in the same manner."

"No."

She laid the bowl and as he was dipping his spoon in, grabbed his arm and raised his dark long sleeve revealing a gash extending his elbow to the shoulder.

"Liar," she said. "I get you're Sasuke Uchiha. But we only have each other here. You can't forget that."

* * *

 _Cold and dismissive... But also neither._

* * *

Gently, she stitched, discreetly looking up if he showed signs of pain. Her fingers pricked sharper than the sterilized needle; they subtly hover over his skin, seared him with her fingertips.

He was looking at her hair brushing on his forearm. A small flame reflected in the concave of her white irises, almost crystalline. She glanced, he caught up. Fleeting stares, gauging subtle winces in his brows but she found none.

She should've known she'll find nothing about him in the face.

* * *

Sometime later, Hinata Hyuuga of the Gentle Fist caught poison for his sake as he fought armored guards to retrieve the orbs containing their chakra.

The height of stupidity, Sasuke had first thought. "I've been in tougher situations and remained unscathed," he said, his throat hurt from huffing and made his voice come out a growl. All the motivation getting out had been to keep her safe. Was this all she amounted to? Hinata Hyuuga with her straight-laced path? How it tormented him with her slipping out of consciousness mounted on his back. "You could've kept that in mind and saved us trouble."

"It doesn't matter… if you could protect yourself then… My body just moved. Naruto Kun would be worried sick if you..." she weakly said, like the same couldn't be said for her.

Back In their borrowed cell, in the receding white light and the suffocated air, pressed in all sides with rotting bark and leaf essences like putrid carcass coming to a boil in a kettle put over the hearth by their weeping cricket host, hopeless as he was for an antidote, Sasuke waited, his thumb on Hinata's faltering pulse.

 _You're a good woman._

When he said it, she stayed still on the bed, messed up hair weaving patterns into the fabric of the pillow, black circles round her eyes, and for a while it was her jagged breath filling the silence, her heavy breast slow on ascent. Her mouth curved slightly and she tipped her head side to side. She couldn't turn it. The tight, small room, the sparse light, and her being there with him, caused him pain. His fingers jerked on her wrist as exhaustion overtook her and she closed her eyes.

 _You're a good woman._

Throbbing between his ears, it continued, more full-bodied than the bubbling tonic mixed with the acid in his entrails. Made more clear to Sasuke was the fact he didn't say this out of politeness.

* * *

 _Perhaps, one of these days, if he still lived, he'll appear at her door._

 _"Is Naruto here?" he'd say. An excuse._

 _But she must be there to open for him._

 _By then, maybe she'll have a boy, Naruto's copy, entering rebellion in his adolescence, rowdy and a rascal like his father, giving Hinata a hard time; or_ _if trouble struck Naruto and he couldn't be there_ _—_ _Sasuke would especially long to be someone who'll keep his fingers pressed on her pulse, watching breath pass her lips as she slept._

* * *

Konoha's knee-level snow from the previous winter had bleakly thinned and spring was beginning. Sasuke recalled Naruto's letter saying he'd be wed sometime then. The bride-to-be was weak on his back. With an arm missing, Sasuke couldn't carry her in a more comfortable place. He should've opted for that arm, he thought. He felt it then, under his cloak, a phantom hand in his severed limb twitching, unable to reach her.

Sasuke left Hinata at Konoha's hospital. She parted him with a gaze that spoke of her trust fulfilled. The tip of her head faded as she was wheeled into the room and the hallway remained hollow and silent.


	5. Learning The Ropes

"S-sasuke... S-stop," she said, giving in to cry. He hugged her from behind, squeezing his head on the crest of her shoulder.

"I need you," he said, his voice plaintive.

"Y-you don't need me."

"You don't decide that."

"You're... You're an amazing guy. I-I'm nothing," she said, biting the shiver from her lip.

"I'm the one who's nothing without you." He placed desperate kisses along her neck. "Let's start over. Once more. Help me learn from my mistakes. I want to make you happy. Teach me. I'll make it up to you... I'll do my best to never lack. I love you."

Hinata stayed silent, swallowing her tears.

"Do you know? I love you," Sasuke whispered and gently caressed her cheek to look in to her eyes. "Do you see it? Answer me."

She gave a nod and he sighed, relieved, indulging himself in her warmth.

"Hinata..." Sasuke wrapped his arms around her stomach.

"Please..." she said. "Let me go..."

"I am, I am," whispered Sasuke, breathing into her hair. "But you can't go to him. I don't know what I'll do."

Hinata whimpered, tired, her arms bruised from the ropes, her wrists striped and wounded with rope marks.

 _(A/N: Oops... Been to the weird side of the internet. This is the result.)_


	6. Loose Fastening

Rain came unexpectedly. Sasuke sought shelter in the waiting shed at the kindergarten. Konoha never used to have one. Also the home for the aged which nobody expected necessary. The cemetery always held the greater count.

Taking out Sakura's shopping list from his damp jeans pocket, the paper had gone flimsy, the ink ran down. Dark, hurried strokes smeared overlapped and botched, the whiteness violated by every word: _onions (3 big), 5 toilet paper, fabric conditioner, eggs (dozen), wood glue, flower pot (2)…_ All over the place, like nothing could be said in between. Sasuke rolled the wet paper to a pebble and threw it down the sewer.

"Sasuke Kun. Good afternoon."

At the far end of the long bench there sat Hinata, instead of a healthy flush, a pale pallor, her fluffy cheeks now slightly sunken. Her bony knuckles protruded sharply out the skin holding a pair of small yellow umbrellas. A bigger black umbrella was canted in the post beside her. He could've stayed there and avoided conversation, but he said his greetings.

Handing him a hand towel, she said: "You're soaked." He told her it was unnecessary but she insisted. "It's tough these days... I mean with the sudden rain. You could get sick."

Not wanting to hurt her generosity, he dried his face and drenched hair. The towel gently smelled of sun, flowers, and something he couldn't name. Her hands, perhaps.

"Where's Sakura Chan?"

"Overtime."

"You haven't brought umbrella?"

He didn't. Her staring seemed steeled in the gray overcast. A reprimand was incoming, he felt; it was a constant part of her. But he was proved otherwise when she gave him one of her umbrellas.

"Kids easily get sick," she said. Shrugging and stopping partial, she looked shrunk and ashamed. "I brought it out of habit."

Sasuke cautiously grabbed the curved handle she held out and on the strap with the velcro was written _Uzumaki Nattsu_ in katakana, the letters with a sure, impeccability to them.

He wanted to ask questions:

 _Did you eat breakfast? How about lunch? On time?_

And tell her how he managed before:

 _Sleep even if you can't._

 _Exercise in the morning. So you'd get out of bed..._

 _Tea will keep you calm..._

But he didn't. Between him and her was Sasuke's carefully constructed bond, not too tight or too wound up. Loose fastenings, like a bolt and nut screwed only by the tip, not holding up. He shouldn't reveal anymore than this:

"Thanks," said Sasuke.

The tension in Hinata eased and she smiled, timid but honest. She was dressed in dull-colored clothes, perhaps a size too big, and her frizzy hair wasn't as smooth as an indigo silk sheet; but she looked twenty, unmarried, trapped with him in an unknown dimension, and in that crammed room, she had just told him she once ate sweets intended for guests hidden in a cabinet as a little girl.

And suddenly, the impulse grew. Why shouldn't he? He'll ask her his questions, every single one until he runs out--

"Hinat--"

Noises broke in by the kindergarten's entryway. Hinata briefly turned at the children coming out. She picked her black umbrella and opened it out in the rain.

"I was just thinking it's sadder letting it gather dust at home," she said, not looking at him, and rain was overpowering her soft voice he only heard the rise of pitch at the end of vowels, filling in the blanks. "Please take care of it for me."

Boruto was hauled by the teacher through the downpour and Hinata went to meet him with the other yellow umbrella. The boy stretched it high over his head with overt enthusiasm and jumped on puddles with his rain boots on, holding his mother's hand that wouldn't let him go even if mud splattered on her skirt and legs.

Sarada was brought over to him, her red raincoat already buttoned properly. He carried her and set the small umbrella forward with the same arm.

 _Thump!_ Yellow burst open wide and he held it over.

Headed to the grocer, drops drummed on the golden canopy, the seams streaming with ripe liquid crystals.

"Papa, this isn't Sarada's umbrella."

At three, she's able to be coherent, smart-mouthed in a good way, her short arms secure around his neck.

"What does it say?" Sarada pointed at the umbrella's previous owner's name visibly hanging loose.

"I don't know," he said spaced off. "What do you think it says?"

"Can't you read it Papa? There are words you can't read?"

He gave a terse hum. "The things inside me."

"Are your eyes bad? Like Sarada? Does it hurt?" she said, patting his eyes gently with a cupped hand, so small. Over his face, they felt close fully grown.

 _(A/N: This is a few-years-later to "Good Woman".)_


	7. World Champion

As the years advanced, the more she found deep breaths necessary. When cold metal worms begin grasping at her skull in the shape of her father's hand, and she'd find herself not breathing at midday, chewing her fingernails. She'd then set out for the pool feeling she hadn't trained enough, her fingers already purplish grey and wrinkled, and her father wasn't even there blowing his whistle, holding a timer.

The taller she became, the more she struggled keeping afloat, always on tiptoes, ever drowning when she had achieved better form than the famous people her father used to show her diving from starting blocks into the water. He'd shout and sputter and she'd see white flecks flying into the bright television shifting colors.

The world closed in on her, its voices and applause, the energy, the gazes tight on her, the smell of chlorine in the water almost like menthol keeping her cold all over.

"Hinata," her coach's whisper held over her ear just in time, always on time. His fingers slipped into hers, just where she needed it, his warmth a nice friction tingling the back.

Sasuke holds her hand this way, with a shadow's discreteness, his dominant hand curled around hers giving it a firm squeeze as though she's slipping away. Sometimes, she forgets he's missing his left arm--from a minefield, he once told her, when he was in the army--and he couldn't hold her any other way without being too obvious from the press.

"I'll be waiting on the other side," he said.

She thought about his past: Sasuke crawling in mudflats or maybe dodging bullets in a spree like in some James Bond movie; except Sasuke with his lack of lady-killer lines will always be cooler.

And then, the Water Needle Mistress--so called for her unworldly speed, sending water needles splashing off the surface--was thoroughly set for gold.


	8. Getting To Know You

When she served him breakfast that morning, he almost looked interested. A sparkle in a stranger's eyes indicating he was up for small talk.

Soon as he finished, as she took out the tray looking as if he'd licked it clean when he rarely ever touched the food he's served, Hinata dared ask how the vegetable soup was. She didn't expect a decent answer, of course, as Sasuke Uchiha never once yielded to interrogators and prison guards. He had welts on his skin and bruises on his cheekbones, but his head never hung low, small and defeated. Even now as he looked at her straight in the eye, saying he did have a good meal.

Then out of nowhere, he asked what her favorite color was. Hinata paused, unsure what to make of it. She was never asked this question before. Ninjas don't; even young girl ninjas with colorful slam books. But maybe that was only her cooped up training in the compound for the most of her childhood. So Hinata threw the question back at him.

"Y-you?" She tried to hide feeling unnerved by speaking louder. But it only made her voice come out weakly.

"Black," Sasuke said, and for some reason Hinata found this oddly predictable. Then his wounded lips held up a wry smile. "But lately, I'm thinking white is beautiful. Sometimes turning lilac in the light. Like your eyes."

He must be taking her for a joke, she thought. Through blushing cheeks, she cleared her throat and stood up tray in hand to leave.

"Your favorite food?" said Sasuke.

A harmless question, though a bit too familiar. Regardless, she wouldn't be disrespectful. Thinking she'll deign him one more question, she answered as tersely as he asked: "Cinnamon rolls."

Fatigued and beat up, Sasuke could hardly laugh, but he did. She didn't find him funny; she was mad at his ridicule. Neither could she figure out which part about cinnamon buns tickled his funny bone. But it fascinated her how natural he sounded. That for some reason, it never occurred to her he could ever laugh like this.

"Sweets are terrible," he said, his tone arrogant she'd briefly forgotten he had just been tortured with shackles binding his wrists and feet.

When she delivered lunch later that day, she was told it was no longer necessary. Sasuke Uchiha's cell was already empty. Just before Konoha's old trusty prison clock struck eleven in the morning, a straight, clean cut from the executioner's blade had done away his sable head off his neck.

She didn't cry. There was no reason to. He was nobody to her as she was to him. They were strangers. But in the silence that over took his prison cell, she knew what his laugh sounded like, and yes, she could hear him say _terrible_. His voice was distinct, it was real… or was it?

Anyone can claim a man named Sasuke Uchiha died and still be lying. They can say he liked black or white turning lilac when it hits the light; they can say he hated cinnamon buns.

But Hinata could only be certain about one thing. Inside her, she was sure. Something inside her certainly died.

 _A/N: Eyy! 'Sup! Remember "Fifty Days" by ohgoditsbriony? Me too._

 _Been long guys. rn I'm recovering from some sorta measles. In case I missed something in the edit, just let it pass. Or u can be my editwah if u lyk. I'm not exactly super sane at this point. (And even if I was, I'm not super super)_

 _@GuestLion: Heard ya._

 _Till next time:)_


	9. Cute Dog

So the day has finally come.

Sasuke was lying on the wet pavement. He couldn't move anymore. A shot in the leg, on the hip, at the back, in the front; too bad they missed the head—imagine if they hadn't and he'd miss how this all ends.

Sirens wailed from a distance. Rain pattered, heavy upon his lashes. But he kept his eyes squinted towards the gray sky. He didn't want to miss the light coming as some had claimed. His vision started to blur, his hearing stuffed. There was only pain. But the sensation also started to numb as the rain continued to pound at his body.

This must be what hell feels like. He was decaying while awake, unable to do anything.

Muffled steps close in. A black shade covered the brightening sky. Long, black hair. Pale. A girl in a high school sailor uniform. She held out a droll object and let it dangle freely above him.

"Do you remember this, old man?" she said. As far as his consciousness could still tell, Sasuke was thirty-seven. He wasn't an old man, he was gonna say. But only his eyeballs stirred.

The girl brought it closer to him—a familiar pink, crocheted puppy plush toy—crouching next to his face. He saw her panties. White. Then he remembered an insignificant conversation from a while back he didn't think he'd even remember; not in this place or this dimming time.

" _Y-you're not gonna peek, are you?"_

 _She was some rich man_ _'s daughter. A frail, mousy little thing. Akatsuki abducted her for ransom. He was stationed to make sure she doesn't escape. Well-behaved, he noticed, though she asked annoying questions; you're an old man, she commented when he confessed his age. Then another rich man came and paid them to take her father down._

 _Dispose her, Pain had said._

 _With what little humanity he had left and a crocheting hobby his dead mother had left him, he didn_ _'t get rid of her, brought her home, had her fed and take a bath before sleep so he could drop her off to her school the next day._

" _Mister, I-I…" She bit her lip uncertainly, "I don't have extra panties," she said, twisting her fingers on the huge white shirt she wore, the faded skull print reaching past her hips._

 _Sasuke puffed his cigarette and stubbed it on a soda can._ _"I don't have panties either."_

" _B-but I don't want to wear my used panties again, mister." She pouted. His mind's eye's shutter automatically clicked and captured, and directed his attention to the dog he was making, thin, pink thread coiled around his fingers. Some tiny pearly beads for the eyes, and for the small muzzle he's gonna embroider to mimic how she looked that moment._

 _It would be cute._

" _Alright. I'll wash your panties," he tiredly said and knocked at the stiffness on his shoulders._

" _Y-your not going to do anything bad are you?"_

 _Sasuke paused a look and sighed an idle thought, if responding to this kid_ _'s question would be equivalent to saying he's bad, but not that bad._

" _No," he said. "Go take a bath."_

 _She nodded._ _"Okay… Is that my dog?" She was smiling. He replied a low short hum. She hopped on the couch beside him and grabbed his shoulders, massaging with her short fingers which barely helped ease the muscles he overexerted busting weaker folks' properties. "I knew you'd make me one. I knew you're a kind mister."_

 _The next day when he drove up a corner to drop her a block away from school, she wouldn_ _'t leave. He had to haul her out the car. She told him she hoped to marry him in the future if he turns over a new leaf. He rolled up his window, finding humor in if she ever knew what that meant._

They never saw each other again. How many years has it been? When nothing else seemed worth remembering. He had prowled deeper in the dark, tried to stay afloat in the mire of his sins piled up on a daily basis.

Wallowing in his own blood, he recognized that was all he had: his sins and nothing.

The girl slanted her umbrella above his head and laid on the ground beside him, her bold white eyes seeming like two blurred blotches of faded white.

"You must be flattered I've kept it all these time," she said, her outlined neck, a subtle curve, mere dissipation in his waterlogged vision. "You're very important to me, that's why. I don't think you don't believe me, though. You don't believe anything I say. If you did, you wouldn't be here." Then she held his face, her thumb caressing his lips.

At his coldest, numbest state, warmth seeped into him from her touch. He could still hear the slackened kick of his heart beating inside his ears. But he could no longer speak, no longer coherent. Breathing was a drag. Though her fingers—strangely he could tell, like he knew beforehand in his mind's eye—were soft, their scent a sweet, sharp fragrance.

"I turned eighteen so I searched for you, Mister… You should have held up your end of the bargain. You should've been kind one last time and gave me that choice."

He gave a tender smirk. She doesn't know what she's saying. It was clearly too late to have regrets if she really knew.

* * *

 _A/N: I initially intended this to be longer as part of my Random and Farrago though the inspiration quickly fizzled out. In case anything of this sort comes up, there_ _'s no pedophilia in this story. It's a contrast between the worldly-wise and innocence. Reminds me of a Naruto fanfic that made me feel so terrible. Coming from a fanfic, I was simply astonished. The last thing which did that for me without being vile and gross was a Nobel laureate's novel. It's Sundried Palaver by Firefly. Do give it a go. Oh, and this amazing author from many years ago also wrote a oneshot SasuHina from their collection of crack drabbles, Crack Whims. It's called Sasuke, Hinata and Hobbies. I loved the fun of it, the sparks fly, the unique tool used by the author to propel these two together. Who would've thought?It was a breath of fresh air._

 _P.S. I'll put back Stockholm Syndrome after a few edits. Than_ _ks DAngel7_ _for being the only one. I know it's too early to say but, I love you xD I'll make a better Stockholm Syndrome for your sake. Please choose one: warm, titillating, or blunt and cool?_

* * *

He opened his eyes to a bright white room, nice sheets, cool air swaying the sheer curtains. The IV dripped and he could barely move his hand. He felt bruised all over, drifting inward, soporific.

Someone came in, bringing flowers in a sun dress. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. Her movements shuffled beside him, a bin snapped open and close. Then she hummed, the diaphanous tune droning near and away as she tweaked on the flowers. Her weight snugged next to him, her touches smelling of distinct floral smoothing over his bangs. She placed a quick, small kiss on his brow, and stayed there until the room was dark.

"What are you doing?" he quietly asked. She crept him out, gazing at him for over an hour.

"Watching over you," she said.

"You're too young for me."

"And you were too old to be crocheting cute stuff, I mean, for a man…" Her head bumped against his cheekbone. There, too, she smelled lush and nice. Unlike the places where he'd been. "D-don't worry, though. I don't judge," she said, her face flushed.

She thought for a curt while and was silent. Snuggling closer to him, she giggled into his ear and whispered: "This is fun, _ne_?"

Her bounteous chest pressed up to him. She was too much of a kid to foray this dangerous trench with him. Once he's well and able, he promised himself he'll leave far to where she won't find him. No Akatsuki, no police, and the whole lot of men he killed. A do-over. Just none of the crappy life he dealt with.

"Hyuuga Hinata…"

"What is it, Uchiha Sasuke-kun?"

Sasuke raised an arm over his eyes, embarrassed of what he was about to say:

"We should have ended up together in canon."

* * *

 _AN: Hahaha! Yaaas!_ _I didn_ _'t kill Sasuke. At least not on this one. But in the original draft, it was tragic. I find myself killing more Sasuke in my stories. So if ever you find yourself rebelling against this dark movement, please make time to write a SasuHina story where he lives. xD Ugh, I so want reviews and the hearts but I'm also aware this impulse to kill Sasuke is making me lose my reader's trust. Save me, please! Write something wonderful!_


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